


Have You Heard the Rumour?

by Megane



Category: Catherine (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Infidelity, Nightmares, Plot Spoilers, Rumours, Slight Canon Rewrite, Succubus, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megane/pseuds/Megane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nightmare is spreading to the dreams of unfaithful men, and Erica does her duty to spread the rumours. But as the nightmares intensify, the story of the fabled witch becomes muddled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have You Heard the Rumour?

Vincent was getting tired of his headaches. They were interfering with his normal life and even enjoying himself at the bar. Orlando and Jonny chatted about the game – Rapunzel, not women's wrestling – and boast about techniques or who had the highest score. Every now and again, Toby would break away from smiling to flick a worried glance over to Vincent. Jonny and Orlando would as well. The older blond let out a dry groan before he started speaking.

          "You alright, man?" Orlando rolled out, almost as if he didn't want to ask. "You're bringing everyone down."

None of the others reacted. It sounded like an insensitive thing to say, but that was just how Orlando was. It was a heavy blanket and a couple of steps above actual concern. It served its purpose, namely as a flag for Jonny and Toby to be ouwardly worried. Well, for Toby, more so. Vincent jerked to life with a "huh" and looked around to his comrades. They all had questions written on their faces, but beyond their facial express of concern, they didn't say a word. The lanky male sighed loudly and scratched his head.

          "Yeah. Sorry. I guess I just zoned out a bit," Vincent lamely explained.

The other three males shared a look.

          "If you're sure," Orlando mumbled, giving the brunet a wary look.

          "You've just been looking so tired lately," Jonny countered, finger tapping on his cigarette.

          "If it's what it could be," Orlando began, smirking a bit, "then you might want to look into getting paid for it."

Vincent scoffed and shot his friend a look. The older male's smirk broadened into downright wicked.

          "It's not _that_ , smartass," Vincent countered. "It's these damn nightmares, and Katherine has been acting weird lately." He added very softly as he looked at his hand, "Weirder than normal." He glanced to the other males. "She's been more distant. It's kind of... haunting."

          "Maybe she knows," Jonny delivered off-handedly. In the corner of his eye, he could see Vincent's head turn.

          "Hate to say it, Vince," Toby cut in, focusing on the older male in question, "but what if she does?"

Vincent, feeling another wave of oncoming defeat, shrugged absently. He reached a hand up and placed it on the back of his neck. Jonny tapped his cigarette over the ashtray. Orlando swirled his bottle of beer idly. The wild haired brunet shook his head finally replied in a low tone,

          "I'll figure it out when it happens."

          "You're taking a big risk," Jonny noted, brows furrowing slightly. "Is it even worth it anymore?"

          "I think he's getting off from the thrills," Orlando added in a flat, low voice. 

Toby turned his head to Orlando but flicked his questioning gaze to Vincent.

          "It's not that. I just - ow!"

Vincent jerked back and smacked the back of his right hand. He hissed softly as he turned his body to the left, dusting off whatever was there. He sat normally in his booth and frowned down at the back of his hand. His friends looked as well. Though they were faint now, the other three could see the collection of pink scratch marks left behind. On top of them was a brand new bite mark. Jonny lowered his cigarette as Vincent stood up.

          "You should get that checked out, Vince."

          "It's just a few bite marks," Vincent shook off. "I'll be right back."

          "Maybe if you cleaned up your apartment, you wouldn't have to worry about it," followed a gravelly remark.

          "I _heard_ that," Vincent snapped, looking to his right as he climbed the few stairs. Under his breath, he added, "Dumbass..."

He pulled off his jacket as soon as he entered the bar bathroom. He frowned and shook his jacket violently, pausing occasionally to see if anything fell. He gave a few more hearty shakes and lowered his jacket. His eyes widened when he saw the scattering of ants on the ground. "What the?!" He stomped them out while simultaneously checking his arms. Nothing there but... He paused and pulled his shirt over his head swiftly. The brunet let out a soft grunt before snapping his shirt with the same determination. Vincent tossed his shirt and jacket onto the sink counter and stepped out of his shoes. He curled his toes against the tile, making sure he was to the side of those pesky ants. He frowned but was actually relieved when he didn't find anything. He stepped back into his shoes, purposefully stepping on the already crushed ants for extra emphasis. He pulled on his shirt and jacket then set to washing his hands. Vincent wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He stared at his hand in the mirror, really taking in the sight. He lowered his gaze and stared at the real thing. His hand was littered with tiny bite marks. All of them were irritated by reddened scratch marks. He ran his fingertips over his skin, frowning slightly.

When he returned, Vincent tucked his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched up slightly as he walked. Erica was talking to the others at the booth. Whatever she was saying, she had lightened up things considerably. Vincent was grateful, and that made what he had to say a lot easier.

          "Hey. I'm gonna head out."

Everyone focused on him as though he started speaking another language. Heh, as if he had that sort of vocal dexterity. He couldn't blame them, though. He was rarely, if ever, the first person to leave early.

          "You sure, Vince? Ooh, on second thought, you're not looking too good," Erica stated, leaning over the table with her right hand on the surface.

Vincent tipped his head down, rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled a bit.

          He shot back a lazy, "Was that an insult?"

Erica narrowed her eyes and stood up. She placed both her hands on the curve of her hips. She pointed at Vincent twice before snapping her finger away.

          "Hey. Don't go reading into things, Vincent," she snapped, cocking her hips to the right. She returned her hand to its place. Her expression softened, brows tipped down in concern. "Anyway, seriously. Go home and get some rest. Maybe the curse is hitting you harder than you think."

          "What're you talking about? There is no curse," Vincent retorted. He dropped his hand. "But yeah. I'll talk to you guys later."

          "Call tomorrow," Jonny added, having finally stamped out his cigarette. He framed a small glass of sake with three fingers. "Just to let us know how you're doing."

          Vincent, to Jonny, "I will. I'll see you guys."

          "Alright then." "Later, Vince." "Bye, Vince..."

Erica watched as the taller male passed by. She passed a quick glance to her friends but then flicked it back to Vincent before walking him to the door. The brunet sighed, but before he could say anything, Erica interrupted him with a,

          "Just be careful. Alright...?"

Vincent supposed that was that. He nodded his head, and Erica waved him off. He hailed a taxi before collapsing back in his seat. The ride was too short; it felt like he had _just_ started to fall asleep. The driver was patient though, already so familiar with Vincent and his antics. The brunet tipped to the side and pulled out his wallet. He swiped his card, grimacing as he remembered how much he had in the bank. Plus, he was having a kid too? Shit. He didn't have money for a tip - rarely did. He popped open the door and threw out a "Maybe next time" as he got out. There was always a "next time", but it came without much change.

 

He was glad to finally collapse on his bed. He checked his phone — no message from either C or K. No pictures, no notifications of "rewards". He didn't even play Rapunzel; where was he getting all of these trophies...? On that, it was in an arcade console. There was no way it had the technology to — whatever. _What. ever_. He closed out of his message menu, snapped his phone closed, and checked the time. 01:34. Shit, it was still pretty early. Vincent let out a sleepy, halfhearted "Eh" as he rolled to his right and closed his eyes.

He almost wished he hadn't slept. "Almost" because he wouldn't remember anything come morning.


End file.
